Mirage
by Vampire-Badger
Summary: Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter weren't always friends. That changed, though, when Dudley started showing signs of 'freakishness'. Forced to learn to depend on each other, can they handle Hogwarts? Especially when it turns out the BWL might be a squib? Permanent Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

The day everything started to go wrong. He could remember that clearly. It was a warm day in midsummer. Not too hot, still cool enough for outdoor activities to seem more attractive than air conditioning. He was outside, along with most of the neighborhood children and a few of their parents, playing baseball with a plastic orange bat and a ball too light to hurt if it hit anyone on the head.

He was four years old.

At that time, there were seven children living on Privet Drive, all under the age of eight. He and his cousin were the youngest, except for Lyle Schmidt who lived next door, and had a week left before his fourth birthday. Julie and Arnold Carlton were seven and five respectively, and the twins Kay and Katy Armstrong were six.

They had just finished picking teams; Julie, Arnold, and Lyle were on one team with Mr. Carlton, and the other four were on the other team, with Kay and Katy's mother, a short woman who was a little like a mother to the whole neighborhood.

The day had started so perfectly; and then everything, _everything_ had gone wrong for him. It was his turn with the bat. He swung twice at the ball, wildly but enthusiastically, and missed both times. Mr. Carlton moved in a little closer. Determined to hit the ball this time, he pretended not to notice.

Mr. Carlton gently tossed the ball.

He missed, again.

His eyes had filled with tears, and he'd started to sniffle. Kay, waiting in line behind him, had held out her hand for the bat, but he shook his head violently and yelled _"No!"_ He could hear his cousin giggling, and he got angry. "One more time!" He'd yelled. Mr. Carlton glanced at Mrs. Armstrong, who shrugged.

As he stood there, in the green grass of Privet Dr., and prepared to hit the ball _(For sure this time!)_, he had no idea how his life was going to change. All he knew was that he was angry at being laughed at, and angry at the ball for missing his bat, and anyway it was after lunchtime and he was hungry.

The ball was thrown.

This time, as he swung, he hit the ball. A dull _thunk_ of plastic hitting plastic echoed against the nearest houses, and the ball soared away- impossibly high, impossibly far. For a moment, he knew only the bliss of success. He dropped the bat and started towards the purple frisbee that had been set down in place of first base.

Suddenly, he heard it- _"Dudley Dursley!"_ and looked up to see his mother running across the street from number four, where she had evidently been watching the game, yelling his name- in anger. When she reached him, she grabbed him violently by the arm and began to drag him back to the house. She ignored his howls of protest, pausing only long enough to yell at his cousin, Harry, that he should follow them home.

-~-

He didn't understand, that first day, what he had done wrong. He started to figure it out after his dad got home from work, and started yelling. Apparently, plastic kiddie baseballs were not supposed to fly a couple hundred yards down the street, above roof level, before landing in old Mrs. Figg's bird bath and scaring one of her many cats out of one of his nine lives. When Dudley was ordered into the cupboard under the stairs with Harry that night, it was only the first step in a long, hard journey he had accidentally begun.

Now, six years later, so much had changed. Harry and Dudley had been grudgingly allowed to move into the smallest bedroom (not the one Dudley used to sleep in, before he was a freak, which was now used by Vernon to watch TV and drink beer on the weekends) when they were six, because the cupboard had become too small for them both to fit. If they hadn't been so underfed and small, they never would have been able to fit so long.

For about a year after Dudley's first 'freaky thing', there had been times when it looked like things might go back to normal. Every time this happened, however, Dudley would do something else that his parents would freak out over, and he would be thrown back into the cupboard with Harry.

The boys spent their days cleaning and gardening for Petunia, and cooking or running errands in town for both of the older Dursleys. They started school with the other neighborhood kids (much to Vernon and Petunia's dismay, as they were horrified that they would have to spend any money on them), and both boys found it to be one of the most fun things they had ever done. No one there expected them to clean or work, and there were interesting books to read and problems to solve. There were also other kids there, of course, although the cousins were prevented from making friends by Petunia, who noticed every time she saw her son and nephew walking with someone else, and would then sit their parents down for a nice discussion on the mental illness that occasionally gripped the youngsters, causing them to go berserk and lash out at everyone in sight.

Time passed. Six months after Harry and Dudley moved in to the smallest bedroom, they were forced back out, this time taking up residence in the rickety shed that stood in the backyard, which had been empty since a storm had ripped a hole in the back wall (Harry and Dudley had been the ones to spend a backbreaking day moving everything into the garage, too). This time, it was to make room for newborn Liliana Dursley, a redheaded baby girl that had been named for Harry's mother (which confused both Harry and Dudley at the time, because she always claimed to hate Lily and James Potter, but then again they had never understood Petunia much anyway. Maybe she had liked Lily, once).

In truth, this was when things started looking up for the boys. True, they now had more work, since they had to take care of Lili as well as tend to their other chores (and as she got older, Lili piled even more work on them by becoming a spoiled brat), and Petunia and Vernon would get very mad if they neglected her for even a moment.

But on the other hand, they were no longer sleeping under the same roof as the other Dursleys, which (due to the ancient adege, out of sight, out of mind) meant they were usually forgotten, meaning less was demanded of them. The shed, after a hard couple of day's work while Vernon and Petunia took Lili on a weekend trip, became a nice place to live. With the hole in the wall boarded up, and most of the dust cleaned out, it was easily the nicest place Dudley could remember sleeping in for years, and the nicest place Harry could remember, period.

When they weren't at school or working at their chores, Harry and Dudley spent nearly all their time in the shed. By the time of Harry's tenth birthday, the shed had acquired two sleeping bags, a couple of ratty old blankets, and a few dozen books. Most of these had come from the local library; one of the librarians occasionally traded old books the library was getting rid of, in exchange for some time spent helping with odd jobs. In lieu of anything else to occupy their time, these had become the cousins' greatest source of entertainment. Much of the same way, Petunia and Vernon's denial of human companionship to the two had turned Harry and Dudley from cousins to friends.

By the time they were ten, Harry and Dudley had grown up a lot more than most boys their age. Not physically, of course; both were at an average height and weight for a seven or eight year old. Mentally, however, they had figured out a lot about life that most kids (thank God) never have to learn. They knew, for example, that sometimes if they wanted to eat, their food would have to come from sources most kids would turn their noses up at. Garbage bins, mostly. Sometimes it was stolen. When you're hungry enough, the boys learned, laws tend to mean a lot less than you always thought they did. They learned that if you need to, you can turn a little bit of 'freakiness' to your advantage. A faster escape, a minor distraction... if it can be controlled, it should be used.

They learned that when one person looks at another person, what they expect to see there is normality. If they see anything else, they are disgusted, hateful, and a little bit afraid. That, of course, was why Vernon and Petunia had turned the boys out of the house, while they doted on Lili to the point of ridiculosness.

Of course, there was one strange thing about this that the boys never managed to figure out. Vernon, Petunia, and even Lili called boy Harry and Dudley freaks. But while Dudley admitted that he perhaps deserved this label, as he did indeed do freaky things (and had never failed to when it seemed they might help him or his cousin), and although the Dursleys frequently referred to Harry's parents as freaks as well, Harry himself had never once shown an aptitude for it himself.

-~-

On Harry's tenth birthday, things changed again for the cousins.

This time, it was caused by #4 exploding.

-~-

**A/N: Okay, I know I'm the only one laughing right now at that last line, but don't worry, I promise that I will definitely update! Probably not until next Sunday, since I have school and tennis practice Mon-Fri, and a tennis tournament on Saturday, but I will eventually update! **

**Oh, and before I forget... please do not bother to review, because I know I'm the only one that likes my writing. I'm probably a coward, but I don't enjoy reading flames, so I've never read a single review. If you review, you're wasting no one's time but your own. **

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

Colleen Dawson was the first police officer to reach Privet Drive after it exploded. She lived less than five minutes away, and had often passed number four on her way to work. She had not known the Dursleys personally, although like everyone else in the neighborhood, she'd heard rumors of the son, Dudley, and his cousin Harry. She couldn't have said weather they were true, of course.

Shaking her head out of the clouds, Colleen began walking over the property. There was very little of the house left. The floor and about two feet of wall seemed to be mostly intact, but everything else had crumbled. Someone would have to go through that rubble later, looking for survivors, but Colleen knew there was very little chance of anyone surving this kind of disaster.

But on the other hand, there seemed to be hardly any damage beside the house itself. The grass seemed as healthy as the lawns of the rest of the houses on Privet Drive. And the freestanding shed that had been in the house's backyard was still standing, looking a bit worse for wear, but probably no worse than it had looked before the disaster.

Colleen stepped around the house and investigated the shed. When she opened the door, she saw to her surprise that it didn't contain gardening supplies, or boxes of old clothes like she expeced (her own shed at home held both those things, and many more besides). Instead, she found a pair of sleeping bags, a large stack of books, and an open social studies textbook.

The textbook was lying on top of one of the sleeping bags, as though someone had been lying there and reading it. Colleen bent down to study it. A quick examination of the front cover revealed a long list of names, students who had used the book since the public primary school purchased it (apparently nine years ago). The most recent name was 'Harry Potter'. A sheet of paper lying next to the book contained two questions (What is the difference between a penninsula and an island? and What are the advantages of living in an Urban, Suburban, or Rural area?). The first question had been answered fully, but the second cut off in the middle of an explanation of the wonders of suburban living (cough sarcasm cough). A stubby pencil was discarded beside it.

Growing a bit uneasy, Colleen quickly examined the other sleeping bag. She found a ragged copy of 'Treasure Island', but nothing else. Now Colleeen was feeling a bit suspicious. This setup didn't look like a couple of kids camping out for the fun of it during summer vacation, and the only other explanation was that they were living out here- but why would anyone force (or allow, if that was the case) two preteen aged boys to sleep in a _garden shed_? And where were they now? Judging by the open book and homework, it looked like the two boys had just stepped out for a moment, and would be back soon. But if that was the case, where were they now? If they hadn't been in the house during the explosion (which itself was starting to seem highly suspicious, what with the way it hadn't touched anything else), they could still be alive, and- where, exactly? Kidnapped?

She stepped out of the shed, just in time to see another officer, Simeon Jordan, arriving. "Simeon!" Colleen called. He looked up at his name, and she walked over to him. "I think we might have a problem here."

He gave her a sceptical look. "Of course," he said sarcastically. "The house blew up."

"I think there might have been a kidnapping as well," Colleen said. "And the explosion might have been planned."

Simeon frowned, but didn't deny her. She was glad to see he respected her opinion that much. Instead, he said, "The fire department will be here soon. We'll see what they say."

-~-

Meanwhile, Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley had found themselves in a cavernous room, with walls made of ancient stone and ceilings that were so high they were swallowed by gloom. It was set up as a cafeteria, but was, for the moment at least, completely empty except for two slightly paniced ten year old boys. The only clue to their location was a large sign posted near the only doorway-

AZKABAN PRISON

LOW SECURITY PRISONERS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT

But as neither of them had ever heard of an Azkaban prison, this proved less than useful.

"Where are we?" Dudley asked after a few moments of shocked immobility.

"I don't know..." Harry whispered. There was something about this strange new place they'd found themselves in- maybe it was the size, maybe the anciet stone walls, maybe the strange air of misery that pervaded the place... but it was impossible to speak at a normal volume here.

"Let's get out of here, Harry," Dudley said with a shiver. "I don't like it, it's... it's bad." He groped for the right words, and failed to find them. Harry nodded without speaking. By silent consent, they walked through the door, and down the corridor, alert for any other signs of life, searching for the exit.

-~-

"The Dursleys are dead, Dumbledore," Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, looked up in surprise as his deputy headmistress slammed a muggle newspaper down on his desk. "Harry Potter's guardians are dead, and do you know what that means, according to wizards law?"

Dumbledore didn't answer her; there was no time before she was speaking again. "It means that Mr. Potter goes to his next in kin, or in this case, as the Dursleys were his last surviving family, to his godfather. Sirius Black."

Again, Dumbledore made to answer, but Professor McGonagall cut him off. "Guardianship magic will have kicked in the moment they died, and transported him- and quite possibly anyone nearby at the time- to Azkaban prison. Now tell me what exactly you are going to do about that."

"Excuse me, Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly, "But as I have only just learned about this, I can't answer you right away." He chuckled grimly. "I am no more happy than you are with Mr. Potter's location than you are, but if the Dursleys really are dead, we cannot remove him from the prison until a new guardian is appointed." He paused for a moment, considering. "I suppose the best thing to do would be to fire call the prison warden and instruct him to keep Mr. Potter in his office, away from the prisoners and dementors."

"You do that, Albus, and you do it now," McGonagall said angrily, leaning over his desk. "Because I've been reading the muggle accounts of the _explosion_," she ennunciated the word clearly, "That killed his family. And although they don't have an explanation for how it happened, I believe I do. It sounds like a Death Eater attack to me. If Mr. Potter is not found quickly, his attacker may try again."

She made to leave, but Dumbledore called her back. "Wait a moment!" She turned, and stopped. "How do you know Harry has survived?" he asked.

McGonagall gestured to the muggle paper still sitting on his desk. "According to that, only the main house was touched. The yard, including a small shed in the back, was unharmed. Inside that shed, muggle law officers found possesions belonging to Mr. Potter and his cousin, Dudley Dursley. They believe that the two were being forced to live out there."

She shot Dumbledore a withering glare. "I hope you find them quickly, Albus," she said quietly. "And when you do, I beg you, do not destroy the little trust I still have in you by placing him with _another_ abusive family."

She turned, and strode from the room.

-~-

**A/N: I forgot last time, so... I don't own anything! Again, I hope this chapter wasn't too awful. And no, you can't expect the chapters to get any longer. Sorry, guys. That's just the way I roll. 8D**

**Oh, and for all American readers; Happy Memorial Day! For everyone else; happy September 7th, 2009!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"Dudley, I think we're in prison."

It had been an horror so since Harry and Dudley had found themselves in this strange place. "And also..." Harry paused, unwilling to voice the suspicions that had been growing in his mind for a while. "I think there's magic here."

Dudley gave him a surprised glance. Clearly, this thought had not occoured to him. "Prison, sure," he said. "Although I haven't seen any prisoners yet." The boys had started their wandering in the caf, and from there had meandered down several linked hallways, where they found several (locked) doors reading 'employees only', a few recreation rooms, some indoors, some outdoors but surrounded by high walls, a run down looking library, a long row of shower stalls, and a few other rooms that seemed to be used for visiting. They had also come across several locked and bolted doors that weren't labeled in any way, but seemed to be the way out. Unfortunately for the boys, they were bolted from the outside.

"But why magic?" Dudley continued.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, first of all... how did we get here? That was either magic or a hallucination."

Dudley considered this for a moment, then nodded. "True."

"And then..." Harry trailed off, as a sudden scream rent the air. It came from somewhere above the boys' heads, and was not the first they had heard. By unspoken consent, Harry and Dudley had avoided any door that seemed to lead to stairs going upwards, during their exploration of the prison. "When we were looking at that library... I saw some of the books. They had moving pictures in them, and they didn't seem to be about anything I'd ever heard of. Like something called 'Quidditch'."

A fresh chorus of screams punctuated Harry's sentence. Both boys shivered, and not just because of the cold air. "So we're in a m-magical prison," Dudley said, stuttering a bit over the seemingly impossible concept, "It sounds like the original Bedlam hospital up there, and we have no idea how we got in here or how to get back out."

Both boys considered this for a moment. Finally, Harry gave a great sigh. "Yep. That sounds about right."

日本語はたのしいです！

Professor Dumbledore was not having a good day. Things had started going downhill when he learned that Harry Potter, as well as his cousin, were currently somewhere in Azkaban prison. Things had only gotten worse when, after a quick firecall to the prison's warden, he had learned that the two were no where to be found.

"We've started searching near the high security cells," the warden had told him. "For two reasons. First, since you think they'll be somewhere near Black, and second, because if they're there they need to be moved as soon as possible."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "But you haven't found them yet?"

"No," the warden admitted with a sigh. "Are you familiar with how the prison is set up?"

"In a sort of general way," said Dumbledore. "The highest security prisoners are near the top, and as you go down each floor, there are fewer and fewer dementors. On the bottom floor, where the prisoners' cafeteria, recreation rooms, library, and showers are located, as well as the visiting rooms and warden's quarters, there are no dementors at all."

"Exactly," said the warden. "There is only one staircase between each floor, and we have human guards posted at each one, to make sure the boys don't find their way onto a floor we've already searched."

"Good, good," Dumbledore said, a bit absentmindedly. The warden (who had graduated from Hogwarts not so many years ago himself) puffed up at the praise. "And you're sure there's no other way for them to get from floor to floor?" Dumbledore pressed. "I don't want them being exposed to the dementors any longer than they have to be. Which, with any luck, will be not at all."

"Well..." the warden hesitated. "There's the old house elf tunnels. You see, there used to be house elves in the prison, to look after the warden, prepare the prisoner's food, and so on. We don't have them there anymore; dementors tend to make house elves even crazier than they are normally." He laughed a bit at his own joke. Dumbledore waited impatiently for him to continue. "But don't worry. There haven't been any house elves at Azkaban for... oh, must be fifteen, sixteen years now. And of course, no wizard has ever been able to enter a house elf tunnel. No wizard knows the secret of how to do it." He laughed again. "Don't worry. I'm sure there's _absolutely nothing to worry about._"

Dumbledore heard this last sentence with a sinking heart. Saying that sentence was just asking for trouble. It was like saying 'At least it's not raining', or 'it can't get any worse, can it?'

The trouble is, things can _always_ get worse, and you won't know it until it's already too late.

ハリーさんとダドリーさんは家に帰りたいです！

"That's it," Dudley said, after another half hour or so of searching. He sat down against a wall, and to his embarrassment, started to cry. "I just- even being back at Privet Drive would be better than this! This is- really, really bad! Why can't we ever be somewhere safe? Somewhere where people like us, and we're not surrounded by... loony people?"

Harry sighed and sat down next to his cousin. Despite the fact that he had been thinking much the same thing for the past half hour, he tried to put up a cheerful facade. "Don't worry," he said. "Things can't get any worse."

And for once, things didn't.

There was a creaking noise, and the wall behind Harry and Dudley slowly swung backwards. Since they were sitting against it, both boys fell backwards. Harry managed to catch himself before he hit his head on the hard stone floor behind them, but Dudley wasn't so quick, and his vision went blurry for a moment.

"What was that?" He asked, clutching his head.

Harry stood up and looked around. He could barely see anything, and as the wall swung closed again, the little light that it had allowed in faded, leaving him blind. "You okay, Dudley?" he asked.

"Fine," Dudley said. "As long as we're not in some kind of torture pit or something."

"I'm sure we're not," Harry said, although he wasn't really sure of any such thing.

Suddenly, light illuminated appeared, a soft white glow that came from the very walls of the room they found themselves in. Well, more of a passage than a room. Unlike the rest of the prison, this area seemed clean, warm, and even a bit cheerful. The passage stretched out before them, lit by the same bright light as far ahead as they could see. Behind them, the wall held a door handle, which presumably allowed it to swing open as it had before.

"Do you think we should go forward?" Harry asked, a bit hesitantly. Dudley nodded wordlessly. They walked.

They walked for a few minutes, as the passage neither turned nor split. Eventually, it opened up into a large room, clearly a kitchen, large enough for several dozen people to work in at once. Everything in it gleamed. Behind the kitchen paraphernalia, Harry and Dudley could see blankets and pillows, among other things, mostly cleaning items and the like. All but one were unoccupied, and that one held the strangest creature either of them had ever seen.

Suddenly, the little thing noticed them. "Welcome!" it squeaked, bounding out of the blankets and bowing. "I is being Middy, and I is hoping I helped you masters!"

Harry and Dudley looked at one another in confusion.

-~-

**A/N: Sorry for the random page breaks. I was having fun with Japanese. :D The first one says 'Japanese is fun!' and the second one says 'Harry and Dudley want to return home!' Oh, poor boys... **

**Anyway, I still own nothing. Except a healthy hatred of allergy season.**

**Oh, and also sorry these chapters seem to be getting shorter and shorter. I'm so pressed for time right now... tennis+school+this=too much stuff!**


	4. Chapter 4

Months passed. For Albus Dumbledore, however, those months could just as easily have been years. When Harry Potter and his cousin had vanished from the Dursley house after it exploded, Dumbledore had expected it would take no more than a day to return them safely to the caring-but-not-too-caring-because-how-could-Harry-Potter-save-the-wizarding-world-if-he-didn't-know-how-to-take-care-of-himself-house with their memories modified.

But that wasn't what had happened. To begin with, Harry and the cousin had never been found. The prison had been searched top to bottom three times before a nervous warden had firecalled him with the bad news. It was at this point that Dumbledore contacted the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix with the bad news, and requested them to begin searching for the boys.

But even with that many people searching in as many places as they could think of, the boys seemed able to completely avoid their grasp. Finally, in late November, Albus Dumbledore took the last, desperate step he could think of.

-~-

The doorbell rang at number 7, Wisteria walk. Colleen sighed and got up to answer the door. Today had been a particularly busy one, and she didn't much feel like talking to anyone right now. Unfortunately, however, she had been sitting in the front room next to an open window, and whoever was ringing the doorbell had probably been able to see her as he or she came up the front walk.

She opened the door to a man who looked impossibly old. That was her first thought. He had a long white beard and more wrinkles than most people she'd ever seen- although admittedly they made him look wise instead of simply old.

She looked blankly at him. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," The old man said. He was smiling down at her, Colleen noticed in annoyance. She was only about a little over 150cm (about 5'1" in inches), and she'd had to put up with people literally looking down at her since her school days, when everyone else had gone through a growth spurt, and she hadn't. She hated when people looked down on her.

"I understand you were involved the the explosion of the Dursley house? You were the first one on the scene after it exploded, and you were the only one to guess that the two boys may not have been killed when the house exploded."

Colleen glared at him. It would figure that he wanted to talk about that. She'd taken more than enough flak from her coworkers because they refused to believe that the boys could have survived the blast that destroyed the home. They were more interested in figuring out what had caused it than they were in figuring out if anyone had survived it. "Are you a reporter?" she asked. She'd had more than her share of those, as well. The Dursley explosion had the misfortune to occur during a slow news week, and as a result, the 'mysterious destruction' had taken the front page on more than one newspaper or magazine. Even four months on (it had been early June at the time of the explosion, and was now nearly Christmas), Colleen was still getting the occasional bored reporter on her front step.

The man chuckled, and she noticed that his eyes were twinkling. How odd. "I am not," he assured her. "I was a friend of the parents of one of those two boys."

He stopped, and Colleen realized that he was probably waiting for her to invite him inside. It was cold out there, and the man's shoes were sinking into a couple inches of freshly fallen snow. Still, she didn't feel like inviting this stranger into her home, although she was not quite sure why. He seemed to be the kind of man that would invite more trouble than he was worth.

Nonetheless, she gestured vaguely for him to enter and muttered something that hopefully didn't seem too impolite. The man gratefully entered, and after she had sat down on the ancient couch, he seated himself in the chair next to it.

"I assume that when you said you were a friend of one of those boy's parents, you were talking about Harry Potter?" Colleen said after a moment. "Because so far we haven't been able to find anyone that will admit to liking Vernon or Petunia Dursley."

The man nodded. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I was headmaster at the school where Mr. Potter's parents- James Potter and Lily Evans- went for seven years. They were remarkable students, and after they graduated we maintained a good relationship. I heard about the Dursley tragedy when it first happened, and have been searching for Harry myself since then. Unfortunately, I haven't had any luck, and I was hoping you would be able to help me, as you seem to have the same belief that the two boys live."

"I do," said Colleen, "But unfortunately, I can't help you. I haven't found as much as a single clue to where they might be. At first I assumed that they had been kidnapped by whoever destroyed the house-"

"So you believe that was deliberate?" Dumbledore interrupted her.

"I do," Colleen said, nodding. "Why else would a perfectly normal house like that just explode, out of the blue? But since we haven't had a ransom note, however, I'm starting to think that they ran for some reason after the house was destroyed. And if they did, it's possible that they could be dead now even if they weren't back in June."

From upstairs there was a sudden crash, then a four-year-old scream of _"Colly! Owie!"_ Recognizing the childish pet name, Colleen stood up. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave now, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Of course," Dumbledore said at once, standing up. "I'm sorry to have intruded."

-~-

Time was passing for Harry and Dudley, and six months in Azkaban prison passes much more slowly than six months at Hogwarts does. On the other hand, Harry and Dudley were actually happier there than they ever had been, anywhere else. And this was all because of Middy. The house elf.

It was all because of Middy that the two were still alive. Middy had been the ones to tell them about magic. Middy had explained Azkaban prison to them. Middy had shown them books on magic, taken from the prisoner's library. Middy had told them the secret of how to traverse the prison through the house elf tunnels.

Most importantly, Middy had explained how to build up immunity to the dementors. It was a secret wizards had never discovered, Middy told the two boys, because wizards had never had the need to. The only wizards that ever had contact with dementors were either in their presence for only a few minutes, or for several hours of the day.

"And this is not right, sirs!" Middy had squeaked as she explained the process to a mystified Harry and Dudley. "What you must do is, you spend an hour a day with a dementor, until you is not feeling effected by them. And then you is going to two hours. And three. House elves was doing it, back when house elves is working at the prison, young sirs!"

And to both the boys' relief, Middy's plan had worked, and the three of them had settled into a comfortable pattern.

Middy was a free elf, and unusual (so she told Harry and Dudley) in that she was glad to be free. Middy's mother and father, grandmother and grandfather, back many generations, had been living freely. They were all descended from the house elves that had served under Helga Hufflepuff, at the time of Hogwart's beginning. She treated them as equals, and freed them when she died.

Middy was the last of those free elves. There were few places for a free elf to remain. No wizard would want a house elf with ideas of freedom, and no muggle could have one. She would have been dead herself by now, if she hadn't been lucky enough to find the Azkaban kitchens only a couple of years after the prison stopped employing house elves. Thanks to spells cast on the kitchen long ago, it provided more than enough food for Middy, Harry, and Dudley. Anything else they needed could be taken from the prison, as long as they were careful.

Middy, Harry, and Dudley all worked together. Middy taught them how to take care of themselves, to cope with living in a prison, and about magic. Especially about magic. After one particularily daring raid on the heavily guarded storage room that held prisoner's wands (not those of the prisoners for life, however. Those had been snapped long ago), both Harry and Dudley had one. Dudley, however, was the only one that had been able to get anything out of his wand. Harry had failed, but that didn't matter since he had taken to potion brewing instead.

They survived. They learned. And the only problem in their life was that they couldn't leave Azkaban, because that would mean getting caught by the guards. Middy feared the guards, because if she were caught she would probably be killed as a runaway house elf, or just for the fun of it. She had impressed on the boys, time and time again, that they were not to leave the prison.

So they didn't. But that was fine, because compared to the Dursleys' abuse, Azkaban was a wonderful place to grow up.

-~-

**A/N: Don't own anything.**


	5. Chapter 5

"We're going to need to get some money from somewhere," Dudley announced one day in mid-December.

Harry looked up in surprise. The two of them were in the kitchen with Middy. During the past few months, the large room had begun to feel more like home to the two of them than Privet Drive ever had. The three of them spent most of their time there, leaving only occasionally to 'borrow' things like food or medicine (like when Dudley, exposed for the first time to magical viruses most wizards were inoculated against at a young age, caught Dragonpox) by means of the tunnels, or to use one of the other (smaller) rooms connected to them.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"Because frankly, I'm sick of eating whatever scraps we can steal from the prisoners without being detected," Dudley answered honestly. "This is _almost_ worse than being back at Privet Drive. We had about the same amount of food, but it was better tasting." He grimaced at the gray lumps that might possibly have been meat in another life. What the meat had come off was a question best not explored.

Harry looked down at his own food, and nodded. "But even if we could get some money-" he cast a glance at Middy, who was sitting next to him. "We wouldn't be able to go out and spend it anywhere."

"I is having the solution to both your problems!" Middy said excitedly. "We can be getting the things you need by owl order!"

"Owls?" Harry asked hesitantly? "Like, from the wizards' mail service?"

"Yes, Harry Potter!" Middy exclaimed. "If we is only ordering from the larger wizard stores, the mail orders are filled automatically. No one will ever know where the owls are being sent to!"

"And no one will notice when a bunch of owls carrying food and things show up at Azkaban prison?" Dudley asked sceptically.

Middy shook her head. "There is a room in the house elf passages where owls can land. The wizards will never be seeing them!"

"That's brilliant, Middy," Harry said. "But what about money?"

"We can be using Harry Potter's vault," Middy suggested. "When Harry Potter's parents died, they left him with money to use until he comes of age and can use the Potter family vault."

"How do you know that, Middy?" Harry asked, a little shocked. By this point, of course, both he and Dudley had become used to Middy being their guide to everything in the wizarding world. She didn't have much first hand experience of it herself, as she had been hiding from wizards for most of her life, but like the boys, she had a huge appetite for knowledge, and had been reading all the books on magic she could get her hands on for much longer than they had. Still, this was the first time she had shown any knowledge of either Harry or Dudley specifically. It was a little unnerving.

"Everyone knows about Harry Potter!" the little house elf squeaked. "Middy remembers seeing him in the Daily Prophet after Lily and James Potter were killed, sir!"

-~-

It was this conversation that led directly into a lengthy discussion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lord Voldemort. Middy told everything she knew of how Harry had apparently defeated the darkest wizard of modern times, and of how he was considered some kind of a celebrity by the wizarding world.

Harry had protested that this couldn't be right, because he couldn't even do magic; several months on, Dudley had made amazing progress with his spellwork thanks to his stolen wand, but Harry had still failed to get even as much as a spark from his. Even Middy had more success when she tried one day, although she preferred the house elf magic she was used to, over the unfamiliar wizard magic. Middy only shrugged and moved on with the conversation. It was decided that one of them would have to go to Gringott's and access Harry's vault.

It couldn't be Harry, of course. The wizarding world had not seen him in a decade, and his sudden reappearance in Diagon Alley, especially looking like he'd been living in a prison for the past few months, would cause far more attention than any of them wanted. Dudley was also not an option, since minors were not allowed to withdraw money from vaults other than their own, even with a letter of permission, like the one Harry ended up writing for Middy.

The house elf did not like the idea of leaving the safety of the prison- and really, it was safety, at least to her and the boys. With the dementors no longer bothering them, and with the protection of the house elf corridors, it was perhaps the safest place on Earth for the three of them. She did it, though. One chilly day just before Christmas, she stepped through the elaborate doors of the wizarding world's largest bank, and stepped up to an unoccupied goblin.

-~-

"Excuse me!" The little elf squeaked, her voice a good octave higher even than normal due to stress.

The goblin leaned down from his high perch- the height of the stools served him well when dealing with wizards, since goblins are shorter than wizards, and dislike being at any disadvantage when dealing with the 'superior' race, but at the moment was merely hindering communication- and looked at her.

"And you are..?" he asked, raising one eyebrow carefully in an expression of extreme disdain.

The house elf noticed the expression and glowered back. "I is Middy," the house elf said, regaining a little of her boldness with the anger. "I is having a letter from Mr. Harry Potter, giving me permission to access his vaults indefinitely."

She stood on her toes to hand the carefully sealed envelope to the goblin, who leaned down to receive it. He examined it carefully, then beckoned for one of his coworkers to come over. "Take the desk for me," he told the other goblin. "I am going back to my offices to confer with this customer."

Slightly mollified by being referred to as 'customer', Middy followed the goblin to an inconspicuous door near the desks. A few wizards stared at the odd couple as they crossed the floor, but then they were through the door and out of sight.

When they reached the goblin's office, he sat down behind the desk and gestured for Middy to sit across from him. Middy, catching sight of the name plate on the goblin's desk, said, "What is being a problem, Mr. Ironskin? I is having a letter of permission from Mr. Harry Potter himself."

"How did you-" the goblin followed her gaze to the nameplate. "Ah. You can read?" At her nod, he added, "How... unusual, for a house elf. But then, your request is very unusual as well." Middy didn't answer, allowing him to continue. "You are aware, of course, that wizards typically do not allow their precious gold to be handed by anyone other than themselves, much less a house elf."

Middy nodded. "But Mr. Harry Potter is not a normal wizard," she informed the goblin. "He is a kind boy."

The goblin nodded slowly. "I will have to take your word for that; but I would find it most interesting to meet him." He luckily didn't notice the moment of panic that flashed across Middy's face at the mention of someone interested in meeting Harry. "I'll take you to the vault, now," he announced, much to Middy's relief. "And I will also supply a magical bag that will provide you with the gold you need for the future, so you needn't present the letter of permission every time you are in need of money."

"How does that work?" Middy asked, cautiously.

"It will be charmed to respond only to you; and Mr. Potter, of course," the goblin told her. "If you think about the amount of money you need while holding the bag, it will appear."

"Can you be charming the bag so it will work for another person, too?" Middy asked. "Mr. Harry Potter's cousin will also be using it."

The goblin nodded, and the two got down to the details of charming the bag.

-~-

After she was done at the bank, Middy stopped at the bookstore, as well as the apothecary. It was much more common for house elves to be seen in stores purchasing things for their masters, than it was to see them in Gringots accessing vaults, so she wasn't held up. A half dozen books and the ingredients for several useful but simple potions later, (Harry had expressed an interest in brewing, since he was having so much trouble with wandwork) Middy popped back to the house elf corridors in Azkaban, where Harry and Dudley were waiting, glad to see her and eager to find out the results of her trip to Diagon Alley.

-~-

_...So in conclusion, I just thought you might like to know that Harry Potter's vault is being used by someone else, and thought it best to inform you in case you did not. Of course, you probably knew already, but one never knows. _

Albus Dumbledore finished the letter from Molly Weasly with a sigh. The Weasly matriarch had apparently stopped at Gringots' a few days earlier and overheard a house elf asking for the use of Harry Potter's vault, claiming to have a letter of permission from the boy himself. This, of course, was utterly ridiculous; after several months of looking in vain for Harry, Dumbledore had been forced into the conclusion that he was either dead, or so well hidden htat he would never be found by wizard kind. A pity, because the boy would have been a most useful tool if the war with Voldemort were to begin again, as it surely would.

Still, the fact that some house elf, no doubt owned by one of the pureblood families that had fought on Voldemort's side during the last war, was trying to steal Harry's gold, was worrisome. If that were to get out to the wizarding papers- and by extension, the rest of the wizarding world- it would turn the public's eye towards Harry's present whereabouts. Or more accurately, Dumbledore's lack of knowledge on same. When the whole sorry truth about the Dursleys was dug up, along with the loss of Harry Potter, the leader of the light would be cast in a very bad light.

Dumbledore frowned. He would have a problem with that next year, which would have been Harry's first year at Hogwarts. He sat and thought for several hours, as the sun began to set around him. He barely noticed when the charmed lights ignited themselves to replace the fading sunlight. A plan was beginning to form.

-~-

**A/N: Unfortunately, I own absoloutely nothing. But if anyone wants to give me something, I have a birthday coming up... well, kind of. December. So like four months or something. Three. Whatever. But I always like early presents!**

**As a side note, hopefully people aren't finding Middy too annoying. She was originally going to be a throw away character because I hate writing OCs into fanfiction, but I've been having fun with her character, so she's going to stay, for a while at least. I think she's going to end up in a little side plot thing with Ironskin. He was surprisingly fun to write as well, but not quite as much as Middy. I think that's a somewhat different take on house elves, so I figured it would be a waste to just get rid of her after two chapters... anyway, hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Harry's eleventh birthday was an exciting one, even as far as birthdays go.

He woke up at five, and made his way, yawning and stretching, to the small room off the kitchen that had become his potions room. He still had not managed any wandwork. He, Dudley, and Middy had concluded that he must be a squib; it was the only explanation for why he was practically old enough to be attending Hogwarts, and yet still hadn't done even the slightest of most accidental magics.

He didn't much mind, though. The way he saw it, he was away from the Dursleys, for the first time he could remember, which meant that he was finally happy. And besides, spellwork was just a bunch of memorization, and then reciting the nonsensical, psudeo-Latin words while moving one's wand in a specific pattern.

On the other hand, potions could be done with even a squib's level of magic. Indeed, a more than a few muggles throughout history had demonstrated a certain competence for the subject. And, to his immense surprise, Harry discovered he was pretty good at brewing. It quickly became his favorite activity, although reading the many books on all sorts of magical subjects ran a close second.

He knew that potions was an unliked subject for most wizards and witches. The few books he had been able to order (besides the basic textbooks every young witch or wizard had to read) had a distinctly apologetic air about them, as if the authors realized no one would ever enjoy reading their books.

"Harry?" he had almost reached the door to his potions room when he suddenly heard Middy's voice from somewhere behind him. He turned.

"Oh, hi Middy. Sorry I woke you up; I was trying not to."

"Isn't it Harry Potter's birthday today?" Middy asked, "Why is you up so early?"

Harry and Dudley had long since grown used to Middy adressing them by both Christian name and surname. It was just a house elf thing, they assumed. He grinned at the elf. "I was in the middle of something last night, and I went to bed while it simmered; it should be just about done now."

Middy looked at him, curious. "What is it?"

Harry grinned again. "It's a surprise!" he was practically beaming as he closed the door to his potions room behind him. Middy sighed and went to get breakfast started. Typically, Harry was the one that made breakfast, because unusually enough for a house elf, Middy had no cooking talents whatsoever. Harry, on the other hand, was quite skillful. Middy had an idea that it tied in to his potions ability. But anyway, today was his birthday, and if he wanted to spend the morning in his potions room, he was allowed.

Half an hour later, Dudley (who had been woken up by the unappealing smell of burning sausages) had taken over cooking breakfast for Middy. He wasn't as good of a cook as Harry, but he rarely commited accidental arson while making toast. Middy grinned sheepishly and announced that she had heard some mail arrive during the breakfast making process, and she was going to go get it.

-~-

Most mail arrived at Azkaban via the boat normally used to shuttle prisoners, wardens, and guards to and from the mainland, because it wasn't good for the owls to be exposed to dementors. There was, however, one subspecies of owl that had been specially bred to pass by dementors without being effected. These owls were pure black, apart from the white circles around their yellow eyes. At this point in history, there were only two in existance, and both of them delivered their mail to the house elf passages where Middy, Harry, and Dudley lived via a well concealed entrance on the northern edge of the island.

Today, Middy found a package of magically preserved and shrunken groceries that had been ordered about a week ago, and...

Her breath caught.

Hogwarts letters.

Two of them.

She had known this day was coming, of course. Harry and Dudley must have known it as well, but neither had mentioned it. Neither had she. Perhps they all thought that if they didn't say anything, the letters wouldn't come.

Harry and Dudley were the closest things she had to a family. She didn't want to go back to being alone, like she had been before they had arrived, for whatever reason. She didn't think that she would be able to bear it. She gathered the letters and the food, and returned to the kitchen with a heavy heart.

Harry had returned from the potions room while she was getting the mail, and he and Dudley were apparently having a friendly argument about weather or not he should tell Dudley what the potion he had been working on was. A few minutes after Middy came in, the conversation broke up and the three settled down for breakfast.

They were almost done when Harry and Middy opened their mouths, practically at the same time. "I is having news," Middy said quietly, just as Harry crowed, "I have an announcement to make!" They looked at each other uncertainly, but then Middy waved at Harry to continue. She was glad to have the chance to postpone the announcement of the Hogwarts letters for a little while longer.

"I finished a potion this morning," said Harry triumphantly. "I've never made this one before..." from the other side of the table, Dudley rolled his eyes. Harry announced the comopletion of a new potion at least twice a week. Some of them were admittedly pretty interesting, but it still wasn't worthy of being announced every single time. Harry apparently noticed the eye roll, because he contined, "I think you'll like this one, Dud. It's an animagus potion."

There was a moment of dead silence, and then Dudley jumped up from his place at the table. "No way!" he said, awe in his voice. "You... seriously?" Harry nodded. "But you said it was really tough! And it would take a couple of years to brew it right!"

"I know," Harry said. "That's what I thought at first. But then I ran across this." He held up a large brown book entitled 'High Level Potions for the Aspiring Potioneer.'

"Could they make the title any more dull?" Dudley muttered, but Harry ignored him. "And... well, first of all, it's covered in notes, by four people. I don't know who they are, because even though they apparently used to use the book to write notes to one another in class, they refer to themselves as 'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.' Anyway, they apparently found a better and faster way of doing the animagus potion. It's way easier, too. It took them about a month to brew the potion, and that was even after four or five years of research, from what it says in here. It took me about three times that long, but then I'm new to this whole thing."

"So you've got it here, with you?" Dudley asked, excited.

"Yep," Harry said. "I thought it would be a nice birthday present for myself- and you and Middy too, of course."

"Middy too?" Middy asked, in shock. "You made some potion for Middy?"

"Yep," Harry grinned at her. "I don't see why not. You've done so much more for me and Dudley than I can ever repay with a single potion."

"Aw, Harry, don't get all sentimental," Dudley groaned. "I'm gonna fall asleep. We're family. That's what family does for each other."

Middy noticed there was a small lump in her throat as Dudley said this.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Harry said. "Middy, what was your news?"

Middy's smile faded as she remembered. "Hogwarts letters came this morning," she told them.

-~-

"Good morning, Albus," Minerva McGonagall greeted the headmaster of Hogwarts when he came down for breakfast on July 31st. "You seem in unusually high spirits this morning. Any particular reason?"

For a moment, Dumbledore almost told her. Luckily, he stopped himself just in time. He had never told anyone of his inability to find Harry Potter and his cousin after they disapeared from Privet Drive. Minerva, the warden of Azkaban prison, and anyone else who knew of his vanishing were told that Albus had located the boys and placed them in a safe, but (for the boys' own protection) secret location. And no one had ever argued with the wisest man in the wizarding world.

But now they had apparently really been found. Or at least, they would be shortly. Today, Dumbledore had personally witnessed the Hogwarts letters (which had been composed and sent out automatically that year, as with every other year since the founders' time) for Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley leaving the castle in the care of a very capable (although admittedly unusual looking,with his dark coloring) owl.

The hero of the wizarding world would be soon returning to the safety of Hogwarts.

And, more importantly, it's Headmaster.

-~-

**A/N: Don't own anything!**

**The bad news: My tennis coach canceled practice ****today (I have no idea why, but it's annoying! We have a match tomorrow! Ugh!). The good news: Since I don't have much homework today, you guys are getting an extra chapter! Yay!**

**I feel like this story is starting to move way too slowly... oh well. I'm really just being lazy about how much typing it's going to take to get them to Hogwarts, so I keep procrastinating and putting other stuff in instead. They WILL get there! Eventually! Not in the next chapter. Possibly not in the one after that. But definitely by chapter nine!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

With that pronouncement, Harry's birthday celebration metaphorphisized itself into a council of war.

"We're not going!" Dudley had pronounced decisively as soon as he heard Middy's news. "We've all read the books, right? After Ungle James and Aunt Lily died, the headmaster of that school was in charge of what to do with Harry; and he left him at my parents' house, of all places! Why anyone would let their kids go to a school under his care, I don't know! But I do know that we won't be there come this September."

"What are you talking about, Dud?" Harry asked dully. "Of course we will. Or at least, you will. I-" He paused, to swallow down the bitterness that had risen up in him. "I wish I could go, but you and I both know this letter is a fluke! I don't have an ounce of magical talent!"

Dudley opened his mouth and cut his cousin off. "You don't know that for sure, Harry. You could just be a late bloomer-"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Late bloomer?" He repeated. "Let's face it! I'm a squib. I'm just lucky I can make my potions work! I would give anything to be able to go to Hogwarts with you Dud, and learn magic. But I can't, and you can. Don't turn this down! You'll get a great education. And you're smart. Some day you'll grow up and get a great job, and be a great success."

Dudley stared at Harry. It had not even occoured to him to think that Harry would _want_ him to go to Hogwarts. Truth be told, he had reached the conclusion a while ago that Harry was a squib, but had carefully avoided saying anything, so as not to hurt Harry's feelings. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to go to Hogwarts (even if his concerns over Headmaster Dumbledore's motives were genuine). He had only said what he did because he didn't think that Harry would be able to bear staying in prison while he left him for Hogwarts.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

"Okay, Harry," he said. "I'll go to Hogwarts- but I'm not going without you."

"Haven't you been list-"

"Of course I have," Dudley said. "And I didn't mean as... well, not as Harry Potter."

"What is Dudley Dursley talking about?" Middy asked, looking worried.

"You just made an animagus potion, didn't you?" Dudley asked Harry. "Take it, and see what your animagus form is. You'll be able to come as a pet."

"What if I'm something weird like a horse or a- a zebra, or something?" Harry pointed out pessimistically.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Dudley, trying to hide his own worry.

Harry appeared to mull this over for a moment. Then he smiled. "I think that could work. And Middy could come, too!"

"Oh, no, Harry Potter," Middy exclaimed. "I can't leave! I hate leaving this place! It's safety to me!" The little house elf started to shake. "I can't leave- but I'll miss you both..."

-~-

That night, at almost midnight, Harry was lying on his pile of blankets on the floor of the kitchen, with Middy on one side and Dudley on the other. He was staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling, thinking hard. He, Dudley, and Middy had continued talking about the Hogwarts letters after Middy recovered enough to stop crying. And together, they had reached one unfortunate conclusion.

The wizarding world would be expecting Harry Potter to arrive at Hogwarts this year. And Albus Dumbledore would be keeping an especially sharp eye out for him, since he was still technically in charge of the well fare of 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry didn't know how Dumbledore had explained his disappearance from Privet Drive, but as he didn't know where his precious charge was, he would surely be expecting to see him at Hogwarts come September. And if he didn't see him there, he would probably take extra measures to go searching for him, which would put not only Harry, but Middy and Dudley as well, in danger for getting in his way.

But the Boy Who Lived couldn't do magic. He couldn't go to magic. He couldn't evade any search techniques Dumbledore might or might not employ in order to find him. And once he was in Dumbledore's reach, he would probably be forced into hiding to cover up for the Headmaster's terrible mistake of losing him. And once it was discovered that Harry was a squib, things could only go worse for him. He would probably end up in the care of a family that would be just as bad if not even worse than the Dursleys.

But now, a solution occurred to him.

What if Dudley went to Hogwarts as Harry Potter? A potion could take care of his blond hair and blue eyes, and give him the electric green eyes that everyone knew the Boy Who Lived had inherited from his mother, as well as the distinctive Potter hair that had come from James. As for the rest of the face, that could stay the same, since no one had seen The Boy Who Lived since he was practically an infant, and infant's faces change a lot as they grow older. As for the scar...

Harry chewed on this for a moment. Muggle make up would work as far as appearances went, and as long as no one got suspicious enough of Dudley to examine the 'scar' closely, no one would ever have to know that it wasn't really a curse scar.

And why should they be suspicious? Plus, if _Harry Potter_ brought a pet to Hogwarts, he would be given a lot more leeway than Dudley Dursley would have been given. Probably not a zebra, still, but still... and really, what were the chances that he would have a zebra for an animagus form?

With this comforting thought, Harry rolled over and fell asleep.

-~-

**A/N: Don't own anything!**

**Hmm... I really don't know why Harry's so fixated on having a zebra for an animagus form, but whatever! Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter is so short. See, I'm trying to stay a chapter ahead of what I'm actually posting, so this was actually written the day you got that bonus chapter on Monday, and I didn't have a lot of time after school. Plus it's freezing outside, and it takes forever for my fingers to get warm enough to type with. Maybe I need to invest in a pair of typing gloves...**


	8. Chapter 8

On September 1st, Dudley took seven potions. Four were simple ones, made to disguise his appearance. A fifth was to lock in the properties of these potions for the forseeable future. The final two were to take care of the cold he'd developed about a week ago.

"Is Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter sure they is being okay at Hogwarts?" Middy asked anxiously as the cousins prepared to leave the prison for the first time since the day they'd arrived, about a year ago by now.

"We'll be fine, now," Harry said. "Where's the port key?"

"Over there," Dudley said, pointing to the umbrella turned portkey Dumbledore had sent them when he wrote (as Harry) to accept the Hogwarts letter, and asking for a portkey. Perhaps it was a bit worrying that Dumbledore hadn't asked where they were staying, or why they would need one. Instead, he had sent a package, containing the umbrella and a letter explaining that the portkey would get them to Platform 9 ¾, since he felt it important that Harry interact with his peers before the start of school.

From Dudley Dursley, Dumbledore had heard nothing. Nor had he inquired after him in the letter he sent with the portkey. "Are you ready?" Dudley asked Harry, now.

"Almost," Harry said. "You've got all our stuff, right?"

Dudley nodded. "I put it in the trunk." Harry nodded.

"Cool," he said, then smiled. "I love that trunk, Dudley. You did a really great job with that."

"Thanks," Dudley said, trying and failing to sound off hand about it. He deserved to be proud of it, though. During the past month, while Harry was working like mad to master his animagus form (he had been doing it in his potions room alone, and neither Dudley nor Middy knew what he was yet. Although based on the lack of complaints, he was apparently something that could blend in well at Hogwarts), Dudley had been adding layer after layer of enchantments to his trunk.

To start with, there were three compartments now. Due to a 'notice me not' charm, however, no one that wasn't specifically looking for them would notice the second or third compartment. The first one, the one that everyone could see, held all of Dudley's things. Books, wand, robes, etc. The second held all of Harry's things, and was slightly larger, since it also contained many of the potions Harry had been working on since he first figured out how to brew. The final compartment was completely different from the first two. It was about ten cubic feet, and on the floor Dudley had placed a matress, some blankets, and some pillows. This was where Harry would sleep while they were at Hogwarts, especially at the beginning of their time there.

At the moment, according to Harry, he could stay in his animagus form for about half a day, but after that he was too exhausted to keep it up. Becaue he was not a wizard, he would have to work on building up the length of time he was able to use his animagus form for. He would never be able to hold it indefinitely, but Harry had confided in both Dudley and Middy that he was just happy that being a squib wasn't stopping him from having an animagus form in the first place.

"So Harry," Dudley said, "How are you getting to Hogwarts? Did you want to ride in the trunk, or are you finally going to show me your animagus form?"

"The second," said Harry, grinning. "Here." He handed Dudley a bird cage. At Dudley's look of confusion, he explained, "Pets need to be contained until the Hogwarts Express arrives at the school."

"So you're a bird?" Dudley asked. Harry nodded. "What kind?"

"Guess."

"Owl," Dudley suggested.

"Nope."

"Eagle?" Asked Middy, who had been sitting near by and listening to the conversation. Harry shook his head again, and continued to do so as Dudley and Middy continued to throw out guesses.

"Hawk."

"Falcon."

"I know," Dudley said after a moment's thought. "You're a hummingbird, and you don't want to tell us because you're embarresed."

"Nope!" Harry said, still grinning.

"Just be telling us already!" Middy cried, apparently frustrated.

"Fine, fine!" Harry gave in. "A bat."

There was a moment of silence, then Middy pointed out, "A bat is a mammal, not a bird."

"Close enough," Harry responded with a small shrug. "It flies. It's got wings."

"That's so cool!" Dudley said. "I hope my animagus form is as cool as that..." Due to the fact that he had spent all of the past month getting ready for Hogwarts to start, Dudley hadn't even had time to take the potion yet, much less perfect his animagus form.

"I'm sure it will be," Harry reassured his cousin. "Don't wor-"

"It's ten thirty already!" Middy suddenly yelled, jumping up from her position seated on a small stool. "The Hogwarts Express is leaving in half an hour! You twos must be going now!"

-~-

Dudley stood just inside the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, staring in awe at the great scarlet steam train that was standing before him, puffing gently and waiting to leave the station. The platform was still fairly empty- apparently most of the families were running late, hardly surprising since teens are notoriously late for everything.

Dudley made his way towards the train, dragging his heavy trunk and Harry's cage behind him. He could have easily lightened the trunk and levitated both items, but he thought that it would be best to pretend that he had no measurable skills with a wand, especially since he didn't want people asking where he (or rather, Harry Potter) had been staying for the past year in order to learn all this stuff.

He boarded the train, found an empty compartment, and sat down.

And waited.

The train would be leaving soon.

-~-

**A/N: Down't own anything.**

**...They're almost at Hogwarts!**


	9. Chapter 9

About five minutes before the train was due to depart, Dudley was joined in his compartment by a cheerful looking girl with frizzy brown hair and large front teeth. She hesitated nervously in the doorway for a moment, then asked, "Can I sit here?"

"Sure," Dudley said with a shrug. "I'm not saving it for anyone."

The girl dragged her trunk into an out of the way corner and sat down. For a moment, there was an uncomftorable silence as Dudley tried to think of something to say. The girl rummaged around in a bag she had put down on the seat next to her and pulled out a thick book entitled 'Hogwarts, a History'.

"Are you reading that?" Dudley blurted out, and instantly felt stupid. Of course she was reading it; that was why she had brought it along.

"Yes," said the girl. "I'm muggleborn; I'd never heard of Hogwarts or magic until I got my letter. I just don't want to be ages behind everyone else when I start school, so I've been reading up on everything I can."

"I..." Dudley hesitated. He didn't want to say he had only found out about Hogwarts recently, because he'd known for a year or so. But he also didn't want to say he'd grown up knowing about it, because he hadn't, and anyone who had been raised with magic would be able to tell right away. "I haven't known for very long," he finished, rather lamely.

He caught a brief flash of releif in the girl's eyes, and realized that she must have been worrying quite a bit about being the only one that hadn't been raised in the wizarding world. "I'm Hermione," she said. "Hermione Granger."

"D-" Dudley caught himself just before he told her his real name. To cover what would have been a suspicously akward pause, he said quickly, "Delighted to meet you. I'm Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter!" The girl exlaimed, apparently awestruck. "Wow! I've read all about you," she said cheerfully, waving a vague hand towards the same bag that 'Hogwarts, a History' had come out of.

"Yea," said Dudley with an akward grin, "I've read a bit myself, but I wouldn't trust them very much if I were you."

"You wouldn't?" Hermione asked, surprised. Dudley could tell that the idea of not trusting something that she had read in a book was one that had not occoured to her before. "Why not?"

"Well, for one thing," Dudley began, "How do they know what happened the night Voldemort-" she flinched, but Dudley ignored it, "Was defeated? They weren't there. The only people we know for sure were there were Voldemort-" another flinch, "Lily and James Potter, and H- me. Three of those people are dead, and I wasn't old enough to remember anything."

"Nothing?" Hermione asked, staring.

"No," Dudley said firmly. Harry had sometimes told him that he could remember a flash of green light, but Dudley didn't want to be constantly badgered by people to tell them every detail of it. Especially when he hadn't, in reality, been at Godric's Hollow that night.

"Oh," Hermione said, apparently slightly disappointed. Nonetheless, she promptly discarded that topic and started in on a new one. "Which house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

Dudley paused. In all actuality, he hadn't given this a lot of thought. But now that someone had mentioned it, it suddenly occocred to himto wonder if maybe people would start to get suspicious if Harry Potter were to be sorted into a house that wouldn't be considered 'proper' for The-Boy-Who-lived. And there was really only one house for Harry Potter. "I think... probably Gryffindor," Dudley told Hermione. _Even if I have to beg for it_, he added mentally. _People can't get suspicious._

"So you think you're a brave person?" Hermione asked, cuiously. Then, realising he might have taken her statement the wrong way, hastily added, "Not that I think you aren't. I was just curious."

"No, I don't think I'm all that brave," Dudley said, and then added, honestly, "It's just that I can't help thinking that people will expect me to be in Gryffindor."

Hermione considered this for several minutes, then nodded her head. "That's probably true. You did defeat Voldemort, after all. But still, you should be able to be in whatever house fits you best; isn't that the whole point of being sorted?"

Dudley shrugged. "I guess. But sometimes life just doesn't work out right, you know?"

Hermione nodded. "My parents want me to be in Gryffindor, too. I told them all about the house system, and they're so excited; they think Gryffindor sounds very noble and such." She sighed.

"Are you going to try and get into it to please them, then?" Dudley asked. Hermione nodded, and Dudley asked, "But didn't you just say you think you should be sorted into the house that suits you best?"

Hermione scowled at him for using her own words against her.

-~-

"Albus! The train is here!" Albus Dumbledore looked up from a few pieces of last minute paperwork- mostly letters in response to worried queries from parents sending their children away to school for the first time- to see his deputy headmistress hurrying across his office floor to his desk. "And you say that Harry Potter will definitely be on it?" she asked, cautiously.

"Of course, Minerva," Dumbledore said smoothly. "He sent an acceptance letter a few days after getting our owl. You've seen it yourself."

"Of course, of course," said McGonagall, now slightly calmer. "It's just... after his relatives' house burned down... and you wouldn't tell anyone where he was, I just got so worried."

"I have explained that it was for his own safety that I wouldn't tell anyone where the boy was living," Dumbledore reminded her gently.

"I know that, of course, Albus," said McGonagall. "But I couldn't help but feel like a failure over this past year, like I failed Lily and James..."

Dumbledore placated her with a few soothing words, and once she had turned away, satisfied, and left to meet the first years and lead them to be sorted by the hat in the Great Hall, he returned to his paperwork. Now, however, after his conversation with the witch he trusted more than any other (although not enough to tell her the truth about his knowledge- or lack thereof- of Harry Potter's whereabouts), he found that it was much harder to concentrate on the work in front of him.

Where had Harry been staying since the explosion of the Dursley house, now almost a year ago? How had he escaped without leaving any trace that even the amazing magical powers of Albus Dumbledore could find? These questions, among others, had been haunting him for months now, and it finally seemed that the answers were only a few hours away.

**A/N: Don't own anything.**

**So, almost time for Harry/Dudley's first confrontation with Dumbledore. Also, just so everyone's aware, it's almost November, and during November I won't be able to work on this story at all because I'm going to be participating in Nation Novel Writing Month, and 2,000-ish words a day is quite enough for me, thanks very much. There's still a week left until then, and I'll try not to end the next chapter on a huge cliffy or anything, but you never know...  
**


	10. Chapter 10

Moments before the train was set to leave, the compartment door clattered open. Dudley and Hermione, who had been deep in discussion on the many magical mysteries mentioned in 'Hogwarts; a History' to see a tall red-headed boy standing there, dragging a trunk behind him with one hand, a rats cage held in his other, and a smudge of dirt on his nose. After a moment's silence, the boy muttered, "Sorry... can I sit here? Only, everywhere else is full..."

Dudley and Hermione glanced at each other. "Sure," said Dudley after a moment.

The boy grinned broadly. "Thanks!" He hoisted his trunk up to the shelf near the ceiling that was obviously intended to hold them. Both Dudley and Hermione had kept theirs on the ground, because they were too heavy to lift, and they couldn't use the necessary spells to levitate the trunks. Hermione couldn't because she hadn't learned the spell yet, and Dudley didn't want everyone wondering where he'd learned his spells.

This boy's trunk, on the other hand, was clearly a lot lighter than either of theirs. He deposited his rat's cage next to the cage holding Harry (still in bat form). He sat down next to Dudley, and introduced himself. "Ron Weasly. Nice to meet you."

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione, a slight sniff in her voice. "You've got dirt, on your nose." Ron scowled a bit, and rubbed akwardly at his nose with the back of his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Dudley, the name coming out a little easier with practice.

Ron stopped cleaning his nose (not that he was really doing much more than spreading the dirt around, anyway), and stared at him. "No way!" he said, clearly in awe. "For real?"

"Yea, but please don't say anything about it?" he asked tentatively. "I'm not really used to people... well, you know. I'm not some kind of celebrity, or anything."

Ron opened his mouth to contradict this, but decided not to. "Oh," he said instead, rather feebly. Then he brightened. "You want to see my rat? His name is Scabbers... he's kind of old, he used to be my brother, Percy's. But still..." he trailed off, standing up and going over to Scabbers's cage. He undid the latch and brought the rat over.

Dudley looked at it. The rat was kind of elderly looking, and not exactly attractive, even by rat standards. "Very nice," he said, because it's never polite to insult other people's pets. "What happened to his toe?" he added, pointing. Ron shrugged.

Hermione seemed to be casting around desperately for a new subject. Perhaps she didn't like rats, Dudley mused idly. "What's that, Harry?" she asked. "Do you have a pet, too?"

"What?" Dudley asked. "Oh, yea. That's my bat. His name's..." he paused. Shoot. He and Harry hadn't talked about what Harry wanted his name to be. Hmm... Harry... Hairy... "Furry!" he blurted, after what seemed an eternity.

Ron, Hermione, and 'Furry' looked at him.

"Furry?" Ron asked after a moment, his voice holding scepticism. "What?"

"He... um... came with the name," Dudley said, grasping at straws.

More staring.

"Look, it's not a bad name, okay?" Dudley protested, ignoring the little voice (not to mention the stares from the other occupants of the compartment) that were not so helpfully pointing out that, well, yea, it was a bad name. A really bad name.

The compartment door slid open for a third time. This time, it slammed quickly shut, as whomever had opened it slid the bolt into the lock and crouched down below the window in the door so as not to be seen by anyone looking in.

"Oi-" Ron started, but a "Ssh!" from the compartment's newest occupant cut him off.

After a moment, there was a commotion outside, of people running through the corridor of the train, rattling doorknobs, and glancing through windows. Thirty seconds later, the noise makers had passed by, and after a muttered "Honestly! Is this a train or a zoo?" From Hermione, all three of them (plus 'Furry') examined the new arrival.

His pale blonde hair, so light it was really almost white, had fallen in a stringy, dissheveled way across his face, making him look younger than he probably was. There was a hint of desperation and fear in his eyes, which Dudley caught at once. He knew that look. It was the look he and Harry had seen in each other hundreds of times at the Dursleys.

While he was noticing this, however, Ron had noticed something else. "Hey, you!" he said, suddenly looking angry. "You're..."

"I'm Draco Malfoy," said the boy. "I know. You're a Weasly. Our families hate eachother, yea, yea, I know, but _please_ let me stay in here with you guys!"

"Why?" Ron demanded.

"I'm..." Draco hesitated, then sighed. "You might as well know the full story, I guess."

He sat down next to Hermione. "My family are really big on the Dark Arts. And Slytherin. Pure blood maniacs, the lot of them." Dudley, who had come across the Malfoy family name in a book somewhere, began to get a glimmering of what was going on. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to be stuck on the name, and Hermione seemed a bit confused about 'purebloods'.

"I don't really know if I believe all that, though," Malfoy said, looking down at his hands. "I mean, it just seems too big to really think about right now, you know? All I do know, is that my family is cruel. They're cruel to the house elves, they're cruel to me, they're..." he trailed off. "They're just really bad people, okay? So what I'm thinking is, if they think Slytherin is this great place wehre everyone worth anything ends up, maybe it's not the right house for me to be in. But see, the problem is, they told these two boys- Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle- to watch me on the train, and I'm kind of scared of what they're going to do if they find out I don't want to be in Slytherin. So I ran away from them. But if I do get sorted into Slytherin, things are only going to get worse for me, since I ran away. And now I really, really want to be sorted somewhere else, but I can't, because my parents are expecting it..."

Everyone stared in shock at the clearly upset Malfoy.

Dudley stood up. "You know what?" he asked. "This is ridiculous." The others stared at him. "What's up with this sorting system? I mean, we've all come here having grown up or at least heard of the houses and what they're supposed to mean, and all of us know that the people who expect something of us know what the houses are, too. I mean, how are a bunch of eleven year olds supposed to be able to ask someone to give them an unbiased sorting when they want something specific, themselves?" He shook his head. "How about this?"

The others watched him, apparently stunned that he was calling the sorting system of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry into question. "We'll go in there, all of us, and when we're sorted, none of us will ask for the house we want. And no matter what house we ge sorted into, at least we're in the one we know we're supposed to be in. And then whatever anyone else says, we'll stick by each other and support the sorting."

A moment of dead silence.

"I agree to that," Draco said. "I don't think I could stand being in Slytherin, no matter what my parents do!" His expression, a strange mix of powerful fear and determination, apparently encouraged Ron and Hermione.

"I'll do the same, then," said Hermione.

"Me too," said Ron. "Who cares what my parents say? I wasn't really looking forward to being in the same house as Percy, anyway."

-~-

**A/N: Next chapter; sorting! Also, more Harry time, because he's hardly been in the last few chapters at all.**

**Oh yea, don't own anything.**

**And, um, as some of you may have noticed, next Sunday is the start of November.**

**That means national novel writing month, which means I'll be writing 1-3k words per day, and I won't be working on this for at least a month. I can't even promise that I'll still be interested in this come December. Sorry, guys. D:  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, if you hear the sound of crying here, there's two reasons for that; one, I've decided to start writing this story again, and even though it's summer I've already got so much stuff I'm trying to do. Two, I've decided to start writing this story again, and it's like rediscovering an old friend. I really enjoyed writing Mirage, and I hope I can get a good chunk of it written before school starts again.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing. **

The train rolled into the platform and stopped smoothly. Dudley, Hermione, Ron, and Draco stepped off together. Dudley sent a regretful glance back at Harry (pets were to be left on the train) before following his new friends.

They made their way down to a group of boats, led by an extremely large man that called himself Hagrid. "Three to a boat, now," he called out to everyone. Dudley and Hermione ended up in a boat by themselves, while Ron and Draco sat down in a boat that already held a boy that looked like he'd been crying.

The two exchanged awkward looks. If awkward looks could speak, this one would be saying 'I don't really know if I like you much, but if you have any idea how to talk to someone that's obviously been crying, I will in your eternal debt because I have no idea what to do'. Of course, neither of them had any idea, so they ended up sitting in silence as they waited for the boats to start moving.

Hagrid had been walking around the shoreline, checking the boats to make sure everyone had obeyed his three to a boat rule, and paused when he reached the boat occupied by the three of them. He bent down and picked something up from the ground. By the way he held it, the thing seemed to be moving.

"Did one of you lose a toad?" he asked, carefully displaying his cupped hands. Inside, a fairly ugly (but unusually athletic) toad was struggling to escape.

"Trevor!" exclaimed the crying boy, suddenly looking a lot happier. Hagrid handed over the toad, instructed him to be more careful in future, and continued down the line of boats.

"So, um... you like toads?" Draco asked hesitantly as the boats started to move.

"Well..." the boy hesitated. "They're okay. I like Trevor, though, my great uncle Algie gave him to me, and he's the only pet I've ever had."

"If I had a toad," said Ron, "I'd try to lose it quick as I could!"

"Don't listen to him," said Draco, quickly. The boy seemed on the verge of tears again, and he wasn't ready to deal with that. "I'm Draco."

"Neville," said the crying boy.

"I'm Ron," said Ron. Draco elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, wha-" he glared at Draco, who glared back and then gestured at the toad. "Oh, um... that's... quite a nice toad." Another elbow. "Really."

"Thank y-" Neville was cut off mid sentence by the sudden exclamation of someone in a nearby boat;

"Look at the castle!"

And there, rising up before them was Hogwarts. The most magnificent building most of them had ever seen, lit by the soft glow of a thousand lights glittering in every window.

"That's amazing," said Ron.

"I can't believe we're really here," said Neville.

"I can," said Draco. The other two turned to look at him, then realized he'd tried to crack a joke.

The boats bumped softly into the opposite shore (Neville almost lost his balance, then almost lost Trevor. He managed to steady himself before he fell, and Ron returned the toad after only a couple seconds of searching).

They got out, and headed towards the castle.

Harry was learning that he was very glad he'd ended up with a bat for an animagus form instead of an owl.

Like most animals, bats used mostly body language to communicate. So did owls. Maybe it was a natural thing, maybe it was a wizard thing, maybe it was an animagus thing, but Harry could figure out enough of what the owls were talking about to realize it warranted at least a warning that 'the following content may not be suitable for younger audiences', as he'd once heard it described on television at school during a health unit in class.

After about half an hour of this, it occurred to him to wonder if it was just owls. After all, probably all animals had to do something like it...

Getting slightly alarmed by where this train of thought was heading, Harry maneuvered the cage lock with his beak, and a few moments later he was free. Very vaguely, he could hear the muted sounds of hundreds of people talking, so he flew towards the sound.

Down the line of first year students' luggage that had been removed from the train by house elves and settled down in an out of the way to await sorting and then placement in the appropriate dorm rooms he flew. A couple of careful turns, a bit of backtracking, and he managed to fly through a large pair of doors, then land (extremely carefully) on a large and floating candlabra.

Then he did what the rest of the hundreds of students gathered in the hall seemed to be doing, and waited.

After what seemed an eternity, the first year students were led into the Great Hall. Looking around at it, Dudley started to wish that they'd been allowed to stay in the room they'd just left, at least until the sorting was over. He didn't want to be sorted in front of all these people, in this huge room, with no one he knew except for a few people he'd only just met on the train...

And... Harry? He had been staring at his feet, trying not to meet anyone's eyes, when he noticed a bat shaped shadow on the floor. He looked up, and sitting just above him was a bat that could have been and, as it was the only bat he'd seen since entering the school, probably was Harry.

He waited patiently while Professor McGonagall explained how they would be sorted. Then he grinned. A hat that read your mind? Easy. Easier than fighting a troll, anyway, which was what everyone had been saying a few minutes ago. Still... if it could read his mind, wouldn't it be able to tell that he wasn't Harry?

Great. Now he was nervous all over again.

The first several people were called up, but Dudley wasn't really listening. After a while, he heard McGonagall call "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione walked over to the hat, practically trembling with nerves. After several long seconds, the hat called "Ravenclaw!" and the Ravenclaw table burst into applause. Looking immensely relieved to be out of the spotlight, Hermione put down the hat and hurried off to join her new housemates.

Dudley let his mind wander again, until the list reached "Longbottom, Neville!" he watched with interest, because although he hadn't met Neville, Draco and Ron seemed to be giving him what (for them) passed as encouraging looks. Neville seemed more nervous than anyone else that had been sorted so far, and the hat took a very long time to sort him. Just as people were starting to get restless, it declared, "Gryffindor!" and Neville ran off to the Gryffindor table. Then quickly ran back to return the hat he'd forgotten to take off.

Almost at once after him came "Malfoy, Draco!" and Dudley watched as Draco walked up to the stool like a man about to do the hemp fandango. The hat was lowered onto his head, and Dudley watched as his eyes swept over the hall, daring anyone to make a move. Then their eyes met, and for a second he saw real fear in Draco's eyes. The hat went down, too large for Draco's head, and covered most of his face. Dudley waited anxiously, and glancing across at Ron- they'd gotten separated on the way into the hall- saw a similar expression on his face. Dudley didn't understand much about the Malfoys, but from what Draco and Ron had said, they cared a lot about being in Slytherin. Which was probably why, when the hat opened it's... mouth... and yelled "Gryffindor!" there were no cheers. Only a scattering of boos.

Dudley shot an encouraging smile at Draco as he walked across the silent hall to his new table. As he sat down, the boy next to him got up and moved away.

"Potter, Harry!" was called, eventually, and the entire room went silent. Dudley rolled his eyes and walked up to the stool, where he took the hat from professor McGonagall and let it settle over his head.

_Quite a strange mind here... and not a Potter's, at all,_ said a voice in Dudley's ear. He almost jumped.

_Who're you?_ He asked. Then realization dawned. _Oh, the sorting hat._

_Exactly. Now, don't worry, I've sorted people under false names before, and I've never seen any reason to tell anyone about it._

_Good,_ said Dudley, who hadn't even thought of that.

_So the only problem now is... where shall we put you, Mr. Dursley? You've certainly been brave, if you've been living with dementors for a year. Smart to spend so much time on your studies. Loyal to your cousin. But perhaps most importantly... sneaky enough to pull it all off. Yes, I believe I know how to sort you. But before I do, will you make me a promise?_

_If I can,_ said Dudley, slightly surprised.

_One of these days, send your cousin up to see me, I usually stay in the headmaster's office. I'd like to have a look inside _his_ mind... in the meantime, enjoy your stay in _"Slytherin!"

Dead silence in the hall. Not even the boos he'd expected to hear after seeing Draco sorted. Speaking of Draco...

From the place Harry had sat down at his new table, he could just make out Draco on the other side of the room. For a second, he looked just as surprised as anyone else. Then, displaying the kind of courage that must have been what got him into Gryffindor in the first place, he started to clap. After a second, another pair of hands joined his; Hermione, sitting at the Ravenclaw table, looked over and grinned at him. Ron, still waiting to be sorted, added his applause to theirs, and even Neville, sitting across from Draco and still looking decidedly nervous, joined in. Dudley looked down and saw the bat's shadow on the floor dancing around. Harry was clapping as well. He grinned.

As the extremely scattered applause died away, he looked up at the staff table and met the eyes of a man he'd only ever seen pictures of in books; Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. He was definitely _not _clapping. No, he was not happy to see 'the famous Harry Potter' in Slytherin, at all...

Dudley clapped in an absentminded way for the other Slytherins that joined the table, but the only other sorting he really cared about was Ron's. Unlike the shock that had met Draco's and Dudley's sortings, there seemed to be only a mild surprise when the hat declared Ron a Hufflepuff, and his new housemates seemed supportive enough. A few names after that, Dumbledore stood up, spoke some nonsense, and the feast began.

**So... there's that. Hopefully I'll see you all again soon. :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim. Just in general. I have claims to nothing. **

As the first feast of the new year at Hogwarts drew to a close, and prefects started guiding first years towards their dorms, Dumbledore beckoned Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape towards a little room just behind the staff table.

"What did you want to speak to us about?" Sprout asked once they were settled.

"Isn't it obvious?" sneered Snape. "The Potter brat has been sorted into my house. This presents a... problem."

"And the Malfoy child has been placed in _my_ house," McGonagall added. "Dumbledore, I realize that the hat was enchanted by the greatest wizard since Merlin-" Snape gave a snort and she paused to glare at him before continuing. "But perhaps this year's sorting has given us enough proof that it truly has gone senile!"

"It doesn't seem like such a bad thing to me," Sprout said thoughtfully. "You remember, headmaster- we were talking just the other day about how badly interhouse rivalries have affected our students in the past few years. Perhaps a few more radical sortings like this is just what the school needs to shake it out of the established ways. Perhaps the hat knows exactly what it's doing."

They all turned to look at the sorting hat, which McGonagall had brought into the room after the sorting was finished, but before the feast began, as she did every year. It had apparently been listening to their conversation, because the rip that served as it's mouth opened, and the hat said, "I promise you, professor, that there is nothing amiss in how I chose to sort either Mr. Potter _or_ Mr. Malfoy. I simply placed them as they wished to be placed."

"Are you saying Mr. Potter _asked_ to be sorted into Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in curiosity. "And Mr. Malfoy into Gryffindor?"

"Not precisely," the hat responded. "They merely asked me to sort them as I felt was best." The hat sounded excited. "Do you realize how rare that is? For a student to come into hogwarts without any sort of preconceptions or prejudices towards any house? Since I've been sorting students, a total of seventeen students have allowed me to sort them without saying 'Well, I suppose _that_ house would be okay, but I would really prefer _this_ one...' I usually try to accommodate their requests, as I don't want to make the next seven years miserable for them, but it really is a treat to sort someone into the house I really believe best suits them."

"So you feel that some students are not in the houses they are best suited to?" Sprout asked.

"I would say nearly half of all students are not in the house they are best suited to," the hat said frankly.

There was a short, amazed silence in the room, then Snape said, "Be that as it may, are we going to do anything to get Potter out of my house?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "I believe we will..." he paused, then said. "I will speak with both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy tonight, if the two of you-" he glanced towards Snape and McGonagall "Wouldn't mind sending them to me."

"Of course not," said McGonagall.

"Anything to get him out of there," sneered Snape.

(o)

Dudley liked the Slytherin common room quite a bit. The dungeons reminded him of another dungeon he'd recently left, and which- like it or not- he'd come to think of as home. "First years, gather over here!" one of the prefects called as the newest Slytherins came into the common room. When they had done so, he grinned at them and said, "Welcome to the Slytherin common room, also known as the snake nest, the dungeons, and 'that place where the slimy slinking skulking snakes hang out'."

The first years laughed, mostly nervously. The older students, who had heard this speech or some variation of it many times before, streamed past them towards the doors at the other end of the common room. "But seriously," continued the prefect. "Those are mostly things you'll hear from Gryffindors, sometimes from members of Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. You'll learn very quickly, if you didn't know it already, that Slytherins are looked down on by the rest of the students in the school.

"We are considered sneaky because we don't always do things the same way as other people- we prefer something we think will work. We're considered stuck up because we don't trust easily and are most comfortable with each other, and don't have much to do with the other houses outside of class. We're considered pureblooded maniacs because we have more purebloods than any other house, and less muggleborns. Worst of all, we're considered evil because some of the darkest witches and wizards have come out of this house.

"I won't lie; we Slytherins can be sneaky when we want to be. Some of us are stuck up. Some of us are not nice people. But you'll find snobs in all four houses, not just here. Some of us _don't_ like muggles, or muggleborns. And there have been dark wizards that came out of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, as well.

"I don't expect you to love the other three houses. God knows hardly any of us do. I don't even care if you're happy being a Slytherin. Just do whatever you can to prove to the rest of the world that Slytherin is a house worth being in. You have the cunning to pull it off, or you wouldn't be here. All I ask is that you use it."

He paused for a few moments to let the first years digest this, then said, "That's enough philosophy for tonight, I think." He pointed at the doors that the other students had gone through earlier. "Through those doors you will find your dormitories. They are not the most comfortable dorms in the castle; the entire Slytherin area was once an area of the dungeon, after all. But unlike what students in other houses have to put up with, you will _not_ be sharing a room with half a dozen other students. Just find the door with your name on it and settle in. A prefect will come round tomorrow morning to make sure you're all awake, and then guide you up to the great hall for breakfast, but don't expect that to happen after the first week, although we will of course be willing to point you in the right direction until you get more used to the castle. My name is Conner Anderson, and I hope you have a positive experience as a Slytherin."

Dudley followed the other new Slytherins through the door. On the other side, a long corridor stretched before them, with walls, floors, and even ceiling made of the sort of heavy stone Dudley had gotten used to seeing at Azkaban. A few magical lights floated near the ceiling, illuminating the corridor better than any other kind of light could have.

The first years walked all the way down to the end of the corridor before they got to their doors. "My dad was in Slytherin when he was in school," said a girl with blond hair. "He says that first years always have the longest walk- you get the better rooms when you get older."

"Are these really dungeons?" another girl piped up, looking around to see if anybody knew the answer. "Like, we'll be staying in cells?"

"Probably," said Dudley, "But don't worry, they can't be locked from the outside."

"How can you tell?" asked a heavyset boy that was glaring at Dudley with something approaching malice.

"No keyholes," said Dudley, pointing at the nearest door. "Doesn't matter if you use a regular key, or magic, you need a keyhole on your side of the door to be able to lock it."

Another boy had opened another door with the name Zabini, Blaise on it. Dudley vaguely remembered this boy from the sorting ceremony, and was fairly sure it was his own door. "There's a lock on this side," he said.

"Well, of course," said Dudley. "This is Slytherin, after all. I'm sure prefect Anderson would be disapointed if we weren't doing things in our own room we'd rather other people didn't know about."

The heavyset boy that had questioned Dudley earlier leered at the blond girl suggestively, but Dudley hadn't been thinking along those lines at all; there were all sorts of things he imagined would be against school rules, things that Slytherins wouldn't think were below them if it helped them get ahead. There was a spell he'd read about once that if used correctly could triple a person's reading speed, for example. The teachers here would probably consider it teaching, but for a student panicking about end of term tests, it could mean the difference between a pass and a fail...

He wrenched his thoughts back to the crowd, most of whom still looked nervous about going into their rooms.

_Whatever_, he thought, found his own door, and stepped inside, closing it smartly behind him.

(o)

"This is a nice room," Neville said nervously as the first year Gryffindor boys entered the cozy looking, circular room at the very top of a long spiral staircase. Draco nodded awkwardly, but the other two Gryffindor boys, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnagan, didn't answer at all.

Draco sighed as he settled into the bed marked as his by the prescence of his trunk at it's foot. This was going to be a very long year indeed. And of course there was breakfast to worry about, as well. When the post owls came he was sure he'd get a howler from his father...

"Dr-Draco?" Neville said, suddenly. Draco looked up to see that he and Neville were alone in the room.

"Where did Dean and Seamus go?" he asked.

"They're going down to the common room," said Neville.

Draco's face twisted into a wry smile. "Didn't want to stay in the same room as me?" he asked.

"Well, no, that's... okay, that's probably what they're doing," Neville admitted. "But I just wanted to say that I'm _glad _you're a Gryffindor. I don't know what I'd do if I'd been sorted into a house where I didn't know anyone, and you've been n-nice to me."

"Thanks, Neville," said Draco. "You don't seem half bad yourself."

Neville grinned back at him.

It was then that Draco noticed the envelope sitting on his pillow. "What's this..?" he muttered as he reached over to open it.

(o)

The room had obviously once been a cell, but had just as obviously been converted into a dormitory a very long time ago indeed. It was now clean, and gave of an aura of protection and security, instead of confinement and hostility. This room, it seemed so say, is a home. It was mostly empty, apart from a comfortable looking bed, Dudley's trunk, and Harry's cage- empty for the moment. Dudley wasn't worried. He'd see Harry soon enough and be able to tell him where his room was located. After that... well, it would be awkward for Harry to be shut out of the room unless Dudley happened to be in it. They'd have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

There was one other thing in the room, Dudley saw now- a letter, addressed to 'Mr. Harry Potter'. Dudley picked it up and read the elegant script.

_Mr. Potter, Professor Snape (if you haven't met yet, he is the Slytherin head of house) will be coming by to collect you in about half an hour. Please be waiting outside your common room at that time. He will be accompanying you to my office, where I wish to discuss certain things with you._

_Professor Dumbledore_

Dudley noticed with annoyance that there was no time given on the letter, and decided to leave right away just in case. He managed to duck out of the common room without attracting any attention to himself(it seemed most of the older students had gone to bed already, perhaps tired out by the train journey).

He had only been waiting outside for about five minutes when a bat dropped off of the ceiling above him, transfiguring back into Harry when it was about two feet away from the ground.

"Hey, Dudley," Harry said casually. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You were at the sorting," Dudley pointed out. "Have you been okay? I mean, no one's noticed you or anything?"

"No," Harry said, "Actually it's been really great. Listen, I didn't stick around for most of the feast, because I thought people would be upset if I started stealing food off the tables, but I figured feeding that many people would take house elves, right?"

"Sure," said Dudley.

"So I started looking around for house elf tunnels, and I mean it took me a while because they don't work _exactly_ the same way here as they do at Azkaban, but I managed to find one entrance, and once I found one I found a ton more- Dud, they're everywhere in here! And there's a whole bunch of rooms I think you can only access from the tunnels."

"You made sure the house elves saw you right away, didn't you?" Dudley asked, anxiously. "The last thing we want is for them to think there's an intruder in the castle."

"Yes, mom," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "They were just so excited to meet a wizard that knows how to use the tunnels they said they were more than willing to let me stay there; didn't even ask any questions."

"Good," said Dudley. "But-"

"Are you out here, Potter?" came a voice from off to the left, the direction Dudley thought he remembered as leading to the great hall.

"Yes, sir," Dudley called. He cast an anxious glance at Harry, but his cousin was already back in bat form, hanging near a shadow on the ceiling.

The imposing form of the Slytherin head of house came into Dudley's line of sight, glaring and in general looking malevolent. "The headmaster wants to see you, Potter," Snape sneered. "Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply, the black cloaked man turned and headed back the way he'd come. Dudley looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye to Harry before following, running a bit to keep up.

**So there we are, the first night at Hogwarts has begun, but it doesn't seem like there's going to be much sleeping happening tonight... **


End file.
